In a few months’ time—­during which we lived, poorly enough, in Richmond Terrace, Clapham, close to her father and mother—­to Harrow, then, she betook herself, into lodgings over a grocer’s shop, and set herself to look for a house.  This grocer was a very pompous man, fond of long words, and patronised the young widow exceedingly, and one day my mother related with much amusement how he had told her that she was sure to get on if she worked hard.  “Look at me!” he said, swelling visibly with importance; “I was once a poor boy, without a penny of my own, and now I am a comfortable man, and have my submarine villa to go to every evening.”  That “submarine villa” was an object of amusement when we passed it in our walks for many a long day.

“There is Mr. ——­’s submarine villa,” some one would say, laughing:  and I, too, used to laugh merrily, because my elders did, though my understanding of the difference between suburban and submarine was on a par with that of the honest grocer.

My mother had fortunately found a boy, whose parents were glad to place him in her charge, of about the age of her own son, to educate with him; and by this means she was able to pay for a tutor, to prepare the two boys for school.  The tutor had a cork leg, which was a source of serious trouble to me, for it stuck out straight behind when we knelt down to family prayers—­conduct which struck me as irreverent and unbecoming, but which I always felt a desire to imitate.  After about a year my mother found a house which she thought would suit her scheme, namely, to obtain permission from Dr. Vaughan, the then head-master of Harrow, to take some boys into her house, and so gain means of education for her own son.  Dr. Vaughan, who must have been won by the gentle, strong, little woman, from that time forth became her earnest friend and helper; and to the counsel and active assistance both of himself and of his wife, was due much of the success that crowned her toil.  He made only one condition in granting the permission she asked, and that was, that she should also have in her house one of the masters of the school, so that the boys should not suffer from the want of a house-tutor.  This condition, of course, she readily accepted, and the arrangement lasted for ten years, until after her son had left school for Cambridge.

The house she took is now, I am sorry to say, pulled down, and replaced by a hideous red-brick structure.  It was very old and rambling, rose-covered in front, ivy-covered behind; it stood on the top of Harrow Hill, between the church and the school, and had once been the vicarage of the parish, but the vicar had left it because it was so far removed from the part of the village where all his work lay.  The drawing-room opened by an old-fashioned half-window, half-door—­which proved a constant source of grief to me, for whenever I had on a new frock I always tore it on the bolt as I flew through—­into a large garden which